Author: Mirrordance
Title: For Every Evil 2
Summary: For every evil that rises, we are given ways to fight it. Legolas and his reclaimed, resurrected friends come together yet again to fight an all too-modern foe: bioterrorism.
10: Black and White
The City of Los Angeles, California
The United States of America
"You have that look on your face again," Montes said to his partner, who was driving the car and bringing him back to his sister-in-law's house.
"Hm?" Leland murmured, distractedly.
"You know," said Montes, "That Look. Like you're alive or something."
"Which I am, for a fact," Leland remarked, flatly.
"Don't kid around," Montes groaned, "Come on. I saw that Interpol guy there. I saw that Brad Greer guy there too. And that tall one, the computer guy too, I've seen you all together before."
"So you have," Leland said, "What about it?"
"I used to be your only friend," Montes pointed out.
"I had friends!" Leland argued, indignantly.
"Yeah, yeah," Montes waved the issue away, and he had the irate, dismissive look of a man who had no plans of taking away a log from a drowning man, "Anyway, you have tons of new ones and I don't think I can trust you with them."
For some reason Greene found this funny. "What do you mean by that?"
"Last time you 'vacationed' with your new friends," said Montes, "You were kidnapped, beaten, shot and just came a breath from a bombing disaster. Now somehow you're getting together again, and there's an outbreak going around. Get my meaning? Do you know more about this than you're letting on? Like that other time?"
"I do not!" Leland said, and he looked marginally offended, "you've been with me all this while, what in the world could I know that you don't?"
"I don't know," Montes grated, "I never know anything about you, lately."
"What the hell are you saying?" Leland asked, now obviously bristled.
"What I'm saying is that the last time you got together," Montes replied, more cautiously now, as he had never seen his partner be this annoyed at him, "The world shook, right? And now you're here, your doctor friend is in a locked down hospital, your Interpol pals are in Africa, and it's all coming together, and my wife and son is stuck in the middle of an outbreak, right?"
"I would never endanger you or your family," Leland retorted, "Or anybody, for that matter. Are you asking me why I don't have a normal, peaceful life? Because if that is what this conversation is about, then you should put a lid on it. That's an impossible question to answer. Now if you're accusing me of involvement in this, or any other crime in the past--"
"I'm not," Montes said quickly, "I never have, I never will. Jesus, Greene, your profile's cleaner than my mother's. You won't do anything. But you might know something you're not telling, which is not beyond you, we both know that. And I need to know everything now, you know, 'cos Julianna, and Mikey, they're caught right in the middle of everything."
Greene's look softened. "I know you're worried. But I don't know anything, all right? I wish I did."
It was surprisingly peaceful after awhile, although in afterthought, it really should have made more sense. With the Emergency Room on lockdown, there were no new patients coming in, and no confined patients in the rest of the hospital to see to. The CDC also took the helm, leaving him with actually less to do. Adrian wisely spent the time looking at the woman who has been plaguing his dreams.
They were caught in a comfortable silence, before Arianne glanced at her glimmering silver watch. The diamonds were winking at the lights.
"Somewhere to go?" he asked her, wryly.
"All the time," she replied, drumming her fingers on the table, "Someone will have noticed I'm not where I'm supposed to by now."
"Sneaked out?" he asked.
"I was hardly a prisoner," she replied indignantly, "But I think I just missed my flight to France."
"Work?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, "Robbie will not be a happy camper." She giggled, nervously, "Much less when he discovers I'm here."
"A hospital lockdown can be alarming to most people," he told her, wryly.
"Well there is that," she conceded, "I also said I was just going to the spa-- in Paris, ha."
"You did sneak out," he smirked.
"I also discovered," she continued, "Paparazzi won't know to follow you if you travel without an entourage. Feeds the theory, doesn't it, that it is actually one's managers and publicists who let information on your location leak out."
"Maybe your fame is waning," he teased.
"Maybe," she agreed, mock-gravely, before adding, more seriously, "Do you have to be somewhere?"
He shrugged, "I have my pager, and people know where I am if they need me. I do my round of checks in about half an hour, but otherwise, I'm yours."
"That you are," she laughed.
Kwisha Isle, Lake Victoria
Africa
"Ever dated sisters, Agent Harding?" YinYang drawled, lazily, indulgently. The distracting uselessness of the question was properly illustrative of how productive the interrogation has been so far.
Hour eight, Harding thought, feeling quite sorry for whomever would be reviewing the video and transcripts of this conversation later. And there would be a review. The tapes recording would be reviewed to half it's life, over and over and over, to catch any nuances that could give a clue on who the weapon was from, and for whom it was made. That is, unless YinYang fesses up and provides some proper information.
For such a prize, Harding was more than willing to play along.
"What about it?" Harding asked.
Thin brows raised, "So you have!" YinYang looked at him closely. Those eyes can go through steel. "And saying it as simple truth too. Neither a liar nor a braggart. I can like you."
"What about it?" Harding asked again.
"You know what they say," YinYang laughed, "Two 'heads' are better than one?"
"You've dated sisters?" Jimmy whispered to his partner, fairly impressed.
Harding hushed him, and tiled his head at YinYang, "What does that have to do with the biological weapon?"
YinYang's eyes were glinting, "It has everything to do with it," he shrugged, "It has everything to do with everything. What else does a man live for?"
"Have you?" Harding asked, flatly.
"You're disinterested," YinYang sighed.
"I'm interested in everything about you," Harding assured him.
"Now that is something I do believe," YinYang grinned, leaning back further in his chair, looking quite relaxed despite the situation.
"I suppose I shouldn't bother to ask if you care at all that many people have died because of your actions," Harding said, "Hundreds in Kasensero and Kwisha, tens in the States, possibly more, we cannot know for certain yet."
"Already?" YinYang asked, "Impressive. They must have started earlier than planned."
"What plan?" Harding asked, "Who is behind this?"
YinYang wrinkled his nose at the Interpol agent, "I am disappointed. You honestly expected me to answer that when you asked."
"What do you care about?" Harding asked him, "What can we appeal to?"
"My freedom?" YinYang sfcoffed, "I cannot get it now, no matter what. My life? It is nothing without freedom."
"You are truly telling me you want nothing that I can give?" Harding asked.
"Nothing comes to mind," YinYang said, mildly, "Unless you think you can convince someone to let me walk."
"Now I am disappointed," scoffed Harding, "You honestly expected me to answer that when you asked."
"You shouldn't mock the people you need," YinYang warned him.
"It's how I show my love," Harding replied, sarcastically.
"I need you to respect me," YinYang said, shortly.
"I treat you with respect, believe me," Harding said, "Can you imagine how infinitely worse this can be? I need you to try."
"I can imagine," YinYang conceded, after a moment of thought.
"Who paid you to do this?" Harding asked, "And who is the target?"
"It's Ebola for chrissakes," YinYang replied, "Think. The target is everybody. I could have started from anywhere and it would get to the other end of the world, if done properly. One way or another..."
"The target is everybody," Harding said, "I can accept that. But where would the strike have been made?"
Often, if one knew the targeted country or location, the startlingly long list of suspects can be dramatically decreased to their respective nemeses.
"Everywhere," YinYang replied, cryptically, "Got any coffee?"
Harding waved a hand vaguely; someone observing the interrogation would have received the signaled request. "You have to give me more than this."
"I am giving you everything," YinYang claimed, "You just need imagination, Agent Harding, you need... scope. What could the things I'm saying mean, huh? What could you give me for the things you so desperately need? Think, think. And you have to be quick. Because sooner or later, you won't need me to tell you anything anymore, the situation will make itself known. And even if you finally knew, you wouldn't be able to do anything anymore."
"So this is not the last of this weapon?" Harding asked.
YinYang shrugged.
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
"Where?!"
"You can't get any further by shouting at me," YinYang snapped.
Harding took a deep, steadying breath, "When?"
"A few minutes ago?" YinYang sad, thoughtfully, "A few minutes from now? Tomorrow? Yesterday? I don't know." His eyes glinted, teasing., "But she will definitely fare better than her sister."
Harding's eyes narrowed in thought. YinYang was giving some answers, the Interpol agent realized, just not too freely. There was a light in YinYang's glacial eyes, as if he was saying, Well what would be the fun in that?
Kwisha Isle went from the look of a makeshift camp raised by two weary CDC 'hostages' to an honest-to-goodness international base camp. The CDC presence was considerable, buffered up by a host of local health workers to look after the health of the infected persons. The CDC established a lab and living quarters for their people, and the FBI and Interpol created a joint living and command center. Even Aldrin J. Marr and crew were temporarily hired to provide transportation services and to make sure no one unauthorized was to leave or enter the plague island.
Brad looked at the proceedings glumly. He was bone-weary, and the uncertainties still plaguing this entire, well, plague, was making him very worried. He sat over a catered lunch on an honest-to-goodness cafeteria-like set-up, picking at the food absently. His weathered face broke into a long-unused grin when he saw Jimmy Goran emerging from the lunch line with a massive plate of food.
"Oi, Boromir," the ex-dwarf greeted, sliding in to sit across from his old friend.
"That's a lot of food," Boromir pointed out, "This is not at all like the old days. You keep eating like that and you are going to get super-sized."
Gimli shrugged, slurped on his, note-- Diet Coke. "I'm fairly active."
"You have been warned by the CDC," Boromir said lightly, suddenly finding the desire to start eating his own food. The company was making his heart lighter, his worries less bleak.
"You saw Legolas on the screen, right?" Gimli asked, "What were the chances of that?"
Boromir shrugged, "It's just the work that we do, I guess, the world and its agencies are highly integrated. But more than that, you know... After hundreds of years and we all still managed to bump into each other, you get the feeling things are supposed to happen a certain way. I'm kind of relieved it's us on this thing again, actually. If you know what I mean. I can't trust anyone else. Suddenly I wake up knowing I'm Boromir and I can't just stand to watch the world's history unfold. If we can do anything about it, well, there we go."
"I don't know," Gimli considered, frowning, "Aren't you scared you'd... I don't know."
Boromir smiled sourly, "You mean kick it? Am I scared that this is the time I do die? Because if we're all meant to find each other and we're all meant to fight evil, then it must mean I'm meant to die too, right? I have thought about it."
"I can tell."
"I can't not," Boromir said, "But I'm also sick of it, you know? I just want to live my life. I just want to see what happens next." He frowned. "Speaking of the future... do we all still have one? Did Haldir pick up anything from the little bastard?"
"No," replied Gimli, "No one has, yet. But that is expected. You go in and out that room though, or you watch from afar, and you start to see torture in their eyes. The interrogators, not excluding Haldir, want to go do this kid in, and I'm telling you, he's not scared at all. He'd have been given a rougher time, I think, if the international presence here wasn't so high. Too many witnesses. Even a glancing blow can be heard loud and clear. If he doesn't crack soon, though, someone's going to suggest doing something drastic and asking everyone else to turn a blind eye."
"I find I'm comfortable with that," Boromir said, and the moment he realized it, he wondered, "Is that so terrible?"
Gimli chuckled, "Not to a dwarf warrior like me. But I suspect you will find many sympathizers and few actors. The penalties are too high. Couldn't blame the Human Rights people, though. I used to be comfortable killing an orc any way that I could and sitting on it's dead body. That's irreverent now, I guess, because suddenly we find we are all alike in some way. This is a kid, Boromir, he looks like a testy child. Now hurting someone like that for information, I find I am uncomfortable with. If it works at all, which I also doubt."
"If it works?" Boromir asked.
"He's sharp," Gimli said, thoughfully, "It's all a game. I read his file. He wants nothing, he has nothing to loose. The worst kind of foe is someone who has nothing to lose and desires nothing."
"He likes money," Boromir pointed out, "He took this job for the money, didn't he? A mercenary is a mercenary. That's what's so good about it. Remember what Haldir said to that last guy he grilled, back in Austria? Just buy him. He's a mercenary, just... ask him to be what he already is."
"We can't seem to agree on the price," Gimli remarked, wryly.
"I wonder how much time we have, before this thing explodes," Brad reflected.
"He said something," Gimli shared, "Something I couldn't shake off. We told him people were sick in America. He said 'they must have started early.'"
"Didn't you tell him the outbreak there was an accident?" Boromir asked.
"We try to get more than we give," Gimli aid, "I guess that meant hitting California really was in the plan, no matter what plan that may be. There might be a second strike there, and this time, it's going to be intentional. Larger too, probably."
"Someone else noticed this, right?" Boromir asked.
"Of course," replied Gimli, "But I'm going to go call Legolas."
"That's good of you."
"No," Gimli said with a chuckle, "If you want to break this case wide open you involve the elf. He has a talent for finding trouble."
"You gonna tell him that?" Boromir asked, "He might not appreciate it. He's grown very square here."
Gimli snorted, continued eating his lunch. He was working through the pile fairly quickly. "You know what else he said that bugs me? He asked Harding if he ever dated sisters."
"Has he?"
"Yes but that's not the point," Gimli berated him, pretending he himself was not impressed when he first heard.
"I wonder how that worked out," Boromir murmured, "What could he have meant by that?"
"All I could think is that there is another cache floating around somewhere," Gimli replied, "Maybe bigger, maybe smaller, maybe the exact thing."
"Another one," Boromir blanched, "We barely touched the one here. I mean an old fool touched a small, stinking sample and created a nightmare in two countries. We have a warehouse full of that crap, and you're saying there's another one out there that no one knows about?"
"I think that's what he's saying," Gimli affirmed, "But the moment I got that feeling I checked if there's another Rosa Rasa logged in somewhere, and there's none. I thought I might get lucky with a Rosa Rasa II or III or something, but of course that would have been too easy."
"White Rose," Boromir said, translating the name of the boat.
"To be more precise, Rasa is more popularly known to mean blank," said Gimli, "Because of Aristotle and a bunch of other philosophers or something. Interestingly enough for you, my fellow reincarnated friend, the philosophical idea of the Tabula Rasa holds that human beings are born with a blank, clean slate, and we only begin to gain knowledge from our experiences of the world. Nurture, over nature. I wondered if that had anything to do with it. But I found no boat named after anything resembling the philosophy."
"But you checked 'White Rose,'" Boromir asked, "You did, right? Maybe it's that simple."
"I haven't," Gimli admitted, "I got caught up in the other matters, and then I got hungry. But I will."
"While you're at it," Boromir said, frowning, "Check in black, too."
"Black?" Gimli asked. The conversation was headed somewhere, he knew it by the sudden pounding of his heart. He knew it as surely as he knew that they were all meant to be in the here and now, to do the best that they could for this world.
"Rosa Negra," Boromir said, and Gimli could tell he was getting that same feeling by the light in his eyes, "YinYang, you know. Black and white."
The Estate of Imladris
Vienna, Austria
Anatalia was looking over the preparations for dinner, when she felt she was being watched by a supremely keen, unmatchable observer.
She glanced up at the absolutely, gloriously enviable woman standing by the kitchen doors. Lady Galadriel, Halvor had called her, though the woman smiled serenely and often looked more proud to be called 'Grandmother' by the twins.
Grandmother, she thought grimly, she looks like my very slightly older sister.
Which was why, Elladan had told her, it was much better for them to be introduced to her parents as his aunt and uncle. It had been hard enough to convince them that Elrond and Celebrian were mother and father.
"Hello," Ana greeted the woman. Lady Galadriel had Elrohir's unashamed, quirky elvish ears beneath her long, golden hair. Ana was relieved her father and mother didn't know any better to look for them. Unlike Elrohir's artsy, blatant exposure, the new arrivals hid their ears in their long hair.
"Anatalia," Galadriel said with a smile. She had a beautiful accent, and a blinding smile. It was not hard to believe this woman was not of this world. She not so much as walked forward but... floated, toward the Italian.
The Rivendell elves aiding with the meal preparations murmured greetings to their Lady and excused themselves.
"What is that?" Galadriel asked, looking over at, well, pasta!
"Pasta," Anatalia grinned, "I thought, tonight, perhaps... Italian for dinner. That is my home country."
"It smells divine," the elf queen proclaimed, fairly royally.
"Your kind do not... eat much," said Ana, "But I thought, perhaps, you'd want to try something different. This is one of our best."
"Thank you," Galadriel said, watching the other's cautious face. Ana smiled uneasily, and turned her face away for a moment. The elf stared like there was no tomorrow...
"What are you thinking about?" Ana asked her, curiously. She was never one to fear, or cower. Uneasy as she was, she would not be stared down.
"It is very unfortunate," Galadriel replied after a moment, "That my grandson should find his love with a mortal."
She said it without offense, so Ana just stared at her and nodded. It was not a thought that was alien to her. She can be selfish, she knew. She knew she could have Elladan for the rest of her life, and he would have to live with the loss of her for the rest of his eternity.
"He might not be so unhappy," Ana attempted to joke, "When I age and he retains his youth, he can divorce me and find another."
Galadriel appreciated her attitude, "It will not be easy for anybody. But I have never feared for my grandchildren nor for those they love."
"I was told, about..." Ana hesitated, "Elladan's sister."
"She too loved a mortal," said Galadriel, "The glorious Aragorn. One could find no better man." She considered, "Or elf too, for that matter. She ached for him destructively when he passed. You will find we are very loyal folk."
"I do not want to hurt him..." Ana said, "But I... I cannot not have him."
"I know," Galadriel said, "Such is love. And I will guarantee you that to leave him is to break him more. He has never loved like this, you see. Has never allowed his life to be open to another."
"Understandably," Ana said, gravely.
Galadrirel gave her an assuring smile, "Did they tell you I see hints of the future?"
"I have heard it said," Ana replied.
"I saw you," Galadriel said, "And I was glad for you. I am happy he found his heart here."
"What else can you tell of the future?"
Galadriel shook her head at Ana, and gently picked up her hands, "Sometimes, the future is a pain to see. Not to mention it still manages to be gravely uncertain. But often it is much better than we think."
"Am I doing the right thing?" Ana asked.
"Would you do otherwise even if it weren't?" Galadriel countered, "You can only do what you feel is right, when you feel it is right. The world cannot demand more of us. You love each other, and you are both here. This is your right, and this is your destiny."
Galadriel's graceful hands moved again, and Ana's heart thumped madly in her chest as the glorious elven woman's hands rested gently over Ana's stomach.
"Do not fear the future," Galadriel said softly.
The City of Los Angeles, California
The United States of America
Adrian Aarons looked remarkably happy, even at the very cusp of a national disaster. The woman beside him undoubtedly had much to do with it, and the nurses, doctors and fellow 'quarantees' who would look upon the beautiful young couple now and then certainly felt that few could be made unhappy by such a stunning person.
They sat in the waiting room with the rest of the weary, worried people stuck in the emergency room, watching a movie. They were cross-legged on the floor, as the room was fairly full. They sat side by side, and the only parts of their body that touched were their shoulders, barely brushing against each other. There was something nakedly intimate about the unobtrusiveness and space they gave each other. There was no obligation, no awkwardness just... habit. As if they've known each other for ever.
Someone had joked that maybe the model was having a case of "Stockholm Syndrome." The doctor, having closed down the hospital in effect kidnapped her. But then someone else pointed out that Doctor Aarons was a brilliant catch himself, not to mention it was she who had come all the way here.
The persons in question were of course, clueless of these conversations, and even of the attention they were receiving. They seemed very content to just sit next to each other.
One of the more quiet watchers was a smiling Julianna Montes. She had an odd look about her eyes as she watched them, standing near the doors to the room, apart from everyone else. There was remembrance crossing her features, and a certain sadness too. Her son Mikey and his friends had bullied their way near to the front of the screen, sitting on the floor with the doctor and, Julianna supposed by now, his gorgeous girlfriend.
She ran a hand over her hair. Her fingers were shaking, mirroring the general tremble of her body. She was not feeling very well.
To be continued...